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While Viktor Navorski (Hanks) is en route to New York, there's a military coup back home in the (fictional) post-Soviet Krakozhia. His passport is no longer valid, so he's trapped in the terminal's international zone until he has a nationality. Over the months he befriends the airport workers (McBride, Luna, Henley, Pallana, Saldana) with his good-natured friendliness and his willingness to work for a living. And he sparks a gentle romance with a love-worn stewardess (Zeta-Jones). But the fastidious head of security (Tucci) isn't quite so happy about having a wild card in the system.

The idea is exceptionally clever, especially as it examines American society in a confined microcosm where the privileged security/immigration/airline staff exist on a different plane than the worker-bee immigrants, all while consumerism rages around them (the extremely authentic terminal is a giant shopping mall). The script is full of astute observations in this sense, combined with how Viktor is treated--narrow-minded, insular Americans yabber endlessly in English to his uncomprehending face. The lack of compassion is remarkable ... until he earns it! And this is a shocking truth about American culture that even people who love this film will be reluctant to admit.

And technically it's flawless--gorgeously photographed and inventively directed, although John Williams' lush score is far too weepy. The acting is excellent, adding intriguing layers to each character's back-story and little lesson. Tucci even does well in his thankless job as the illogically vindictive villain. But it's far too long, dragging out the three main plot threads (Viktor's big quest, the romantic resolution, the villain's comeuppance), while rushing through subplots that leave us wanting more (most notably Luna and Zaldana's truncated love story). And as it progresses, it just gets so cute and sweet that any insightful observations will be lost to real-world audiences amid the flood of schmaltz.